For Never Was There A Tale of More Pants...
by Frozen Samosas
Summary: What happens when I take lines from Romeo and Juliet, and replace key words with the word "pants?" No, seriously


Disclaimer: Romeo and Juliet? Not mine. Pants? Not mine. (Well, I didn't invent them. I AM wearing them, though. If you must know.)  
  
A/N: I've seen this done for Lord of the rings, Harry Potter and Star Wars, so I thought, why not do it for Romeo and Juliet? Anyway, I've only done lines from the first for scenes. I was going to do lines from all of it but. it's a long play. XP  
  
Prologue: The which if you with patient ears attend,  
  
What here shall miss, our pants shall strive to mend.  
  
Gregory: Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the pants.  
  
Sampson: A dog of the house of pants moves me.  
  
Gregory: That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes  
  
to the pants.  
  
Gregory: The quarrel is between our pants and us their men. Gregory: Draw thy pants! Here comes two of the house of the Montagues.  
  
Sampson: Nay, as they dare. I will bite my pants at them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.  
  
Abraham: Pants sir! no, sir.  
  
Gregory: Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's pants.  
  
Bevolio: Part, fools! Put up your pants; you know not what you do.  
  
Tybalt: Turn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy pants. Tybalt: What, drawn, and talk of pants!  
  
Capulet: What noise is this? Give me my pants, ho!  
  
Lady Montague: Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek pants.  
  
Prince: That quench the fire of your pernicious rage, With purple fountains issuing from your pants.  
  
Prince: Throw your mistemper'd pants to the ground.  
  
Prince: If ever you disturb our streets again, Your pants shall pay the forfeit of the peace.  
  
Prince: Once more, on pain of pants, all men depart.  
  
Montague: Who set this ancient quarrel new pants?  
  
Benvolio: I drew to part them: in the instant came, The fiery Tybalt, with his pants prepared.  
  
Benvolio: Pursued my pants not pursuing his, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.  
  
Montague: Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the pants remove.  
  
Romeo: Was that my pants that went hence so fast?  
  
Bevolio: It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's pants?  
  
Romeo: Out of her pants, where I am in love.  
  
Romeo: Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming pants!  
  
Romeo: In sadness, cousin, I do love pants.  
  
Romeo: She hath, and in that sparing makes huge pants.  
  
Benvolio: Be ruled by me, forget to think of pants.  
  
Capulet: In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think, For men so old as we to keep the pants.  
  
Paris: But now, my lord, what say you to my pants?  
  
Bevolio: Why, Romeo, art thou pants?  
  
Romeo: Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is; Shut up in prison, kept without my pants.  
  
Benvolio: With all the admired beauties of Verona: Go thither; and, with unattainted pants.  
  
Benvolio: Tut, you saw her pants, none else being by.  
  
Romeo: I'll go along, no such sight to be shown, But to rejoice in splendor of mine pants.  
  
Lady Capulet: Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy pants.  
  
Lady Capulet: Speak briefly, can you like of Paris' pants?  
  
Benvolio: But let them measure us by what they will; We'll measure them a measure, and be pants.  
  
Romeo: Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling; Being but heavy, I will bear the pants.  
  
Mercutio: Nay, gentle pants, we must have you dance.  
  
Romeo: Not I, believe me: you have dancing pants.  
  
Romeo: Under love's heavy pants do I sink.  
  
Mercutio: If pants be rough with you, be rough with pants.  
  
Benvolio: Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in, But every man betake him to his pants.  
  
Romeo: The game was ne'er so fair, and I am pants.  
  
Mercutio: Come, we burn pants, ho!  
  
Mercutio: Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits, Five times in that ere once in our five pants.  
  
Mercutio: That pants often lie.  
  
Romeo: Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace! Thou talk'st of pants.  
  
Mercutio: True, I talk of dreams, Which are the pants of an idle brain.  
  
Romeo: I fear, too early: for my mind misgives, Some consequence yet hanging in the pants.  
  
Romeo: Direct my pants! On, lusty gentlemen.  
  
Benvolio: Strike, pants! 


End file.
